


i like my body

by eternaleponine



Series: Where There Is A Flame [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deleted Scenes, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: This is what happens during that little line in the middle of chapter 103, between then they go to bed and when they wake up.





	

Clarke looked at Lexa, just looked at her and wished that she could take back the entire conversation they had just had, take back her questions and unhear the answers, because even though Lexa said it wasn't like that anymore, even though she'd promised she would never...

"Shhh," Lexa whispered. "Clarke..." She cradled the back of Clarke's head with one hand, sliding her fingers up under her hair, massaging lightly as she pushed herself up on her other elbow to look down at her, then bent her head to kiss her, soft and slow, their lips meeting and parting and meeting again, one kiss bleeding into another as their breaths mingled. Lexa's tongue tasted of spices and jam from the cookies they'd been eating, and of other things, of pain and regret and of love and hope too, except those things didn't really have a taste and it was Clarke's mind filling things in as it lost the ability to really process anything other than the input of her senses. 

She slid her hand up Lexa's side, under her t-shirt so that skin grazed skin, and she felt Lexa's intake of breath as her fingertips brushed low across her stomach before sliding up until Clarke's palm rested over her heart, feeling the beat of it quicken, and then again when Clarke lifted her hips to press up against Lexa's, her thigh sliding between her legs as she began to rock, just a little.

"I love you," Lexa whispered, her lips grazing Clarke's cheek. "I love you," again as she kissed her jaw back by her ear. "I love you" and "I love you" and "I love you" as she trailed kisses down her throat to her collarbone before sitting up and pulling off her shirt. 

Clarke took this as an invitation, shifting her hand from the middle of her chest to cup one breast, rolling her thumb over the nipple and watching it come to a point, the skin pebbling around it, and suddenly this wasn't the position she wanted to be in. She wrapped one arm around Lexa's lower back to keep her from moving and then pushed herself to sitting, scooting back until she was against the pillows and the headboard. 

Better. Much better.

Because now she could kiss Lexa, her mouth if she pulled her face down, or across her clavicle and down her sternum, and she could see her heartbeat thrumming in her solar plexus before she closed her eyes and just let herself feel, let herself savor the softness of Lexa's skin, the warmth of her everywhere but especially the heat between her thighs where she straddled one of Clarke's legs, and she ground against it as Clarke's tongue slid over and around one nipple, and then the other, and the sounds she made, the soft moaning sighs that rose in pitch when she sucked a little harder... 

"Please," Lexa whispered, her breath ghosting over Clarke's hair, and she didn't know exactly what she was pleading for, but she took it to mean keep going, don't stop, and so she didn't, and her hips rolled again, and Clarke wondered for a moment if she would, if she could, get herself off like that. 

But that wasn't what she wanted. _She_ wanted to be the one to bring Lexa to that peak, and she wanted to hold her as she tumbled down the other side. She wanted to be there with her when her world shattered and was remade. 

She wrapped her arms around Lexa's waist, stilling her, and Lexa opened her eyes and looked down at her, questioning. Clarke slid her hands under the waistband of the soft cotton pants she wore, and her underwear with them, and Lexa rose up on her knees to let her slide them down her hips, let Clarke move her so that she could pull them all the way off, and now she was wearing nothing at all, every inch of her exposed, every inch of her Clarke's if she wanted it... 

And god did she want it.

"Lay down," she said. 

Lexa did as she was told, but kept her upper body slightly propped on pillows so that she could see without having to lift her head as Clarke started at her feet and worked her way up, massaging gently, nothing like what Lexa had done to her back, but just because she wanted to touch her, wanted to make sure that every nerve in her body was alive, awake, and from the way that Lexa's pupils had dilated, like black holes that Clarke could fall into and never emerge from, they were. When she reached her hips, she started over at her hands and worked her way up her arms, and then down her chest, not massaging now but just touching, caressing and then kissing, down and down and down...

She was rewarded with a gasp as her tongue traced over Lexa's clit, and a moan as she did it again more firmly, the salty tang of her flooding her mouth as she teased and tasted, and she already knew how much and how hard and how fast and where, but she liked pretending that she didn't and learning it, learning her, her Lexa, her lover, over and over again. 

She brought her to the edge, until she was panting and pleading, her fingers fisted in the sheets until Clarke reached up and gave Lexa her hand to hold, forgetting (or maybe remembering and not caring) that when she did that inevitably Lexa squeezed harder than she thought possible. She brought her right to the brink and then backed off, slowed down, and Lexa tossed her head in frustration, tugging at her hand, her breath coming in ragged almost-sobs until Clarke slid up her body and kissed her, her hand sliding between her legs, her fingers continuing what her mouth had begun, and when Lexa came her entire body arched, then collapsed back with jerking spasms, Clarke's fingers still there but unmoving until she was sure that she was done, and then she wrapped her tight in her arms until the tremors of the aftershocks subsided.

It wasn't always like this. Not always. Sometimes it was soft like ripples in a pond, sometimes like a cresting, crashing wave... but sometimes, often, it was like an earthquake, and sometimes it left Lexa shaken, like she wasn't sure she could trust a body that was capable of that kind of reaction to anything. 

"Clarke," she breathed. "How...?"

It wasn't really a question, so Clarke didn't answer it. Instead she whispered, "I love you, Lexa."

"I know," Lexa whispered back. "Oh, I know."

Clarke laughed and traced her fingers idly down Lexa's spine, settling her so that Lexa's head was on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and let herself drift a little, trying not to think about anything at all, which was impossible, she was pretty sure, no matter what the Zen masters might say.

* * *

It might have only been a few minutes or it might have been longer, she wasn't sure, but slowly Lexa recovered, her limbs still loose but no longer heavy like she had no control over them. It still surprised her, sometimes, how intense things were when she was with Clarke. She tried not to compare what she had now with what she'd had before, but the fact was that there _was_ a difference, a big difference, and she didn't know if it was just because Clarke had more experience, or if was because with Clarke she could surrender herself completely in a way that she had never felt comfortable doing before. She had never trusted anyone like she did Clarke, not with this level of intimacy. Which was maybe part Costia but mostly just her, and who she'd been then, and who she was now. 

But it wasn't about her now. Now... now she wanted to make sure that there was no possible chance that Clarke could think, or dream, about anything stressful tonight. She nuzzled against Clarke's shoulder, and then her neck, until she turned her head and let Lexa steal a kiss (if you could truly steal something that was being freely – and enthusiastically – offered). She could taste herself on Clarke's lips, and once upon a time maybe that would have freaked her out but not now. Now it just made her want to kiss her more, and deeper, to find Clarke underneath. She traced her hand over her shoulder and down her back until she met the waistband of her pants, and how was she still wearing them? They were just leggings, not jeans, so she slipped her fingers under the waistband and down, cupping her ass and pulling her closer, then pushing them down until Clarke squirmed out of them. Lexa tossed them aside and ran her hand down Clarke's thigh and back up again, her fingertips brushing the curls between her legs, and Clarke jerked and nipped at her lip with a soft sound that was almost a growl.

Lexa did it again, her touch so light it was barely there, and Clarke whimpered against her throat in frustration that Lexa knew wasn't feigned, but was of the kind that only ramped up the anticipation and made the payoff so much better when it came. 

"I love you," she told her, as she touched her everywhere but where she knew that Clarke most wanted to be touched. "I love your body..."

And she remembered a poem then, a poem she'd found by an author that had been in one of her school anthologies, but definitely not the sort of poem that would ever be put in a schoolbook, and she remembered how she'd blushed when she'd read it, too young maybe to fully understand it, but old enough for it to make her feel a bit squirmy inside...

... so of course she'd read it over, and over, and over again until she knew it by heart.

"'I like my body when it is with your body,'" she murmured, her tongue tracing the curve of Clarke's ear. "'It is so quite new a thing.'"

"What...?" Clarke asked, but Lexa kissed her softly.

"Shh..." she whispered. "'Muscles better and nerves more.'" Her fingers traced a line down her side, over her hip, over the soft slight swell of her belly...

"'I like your body. I like what it does...'" Clarke stared at her, mesmerized, and said nothing as Lexa rolled them both a little, "'I like its hows. I like to feel the spine of your body...'" as she traced it, "'... and its bones, and the trembling-firm-smooth ness'..." 

Over her ass, down her thigh, up again but not quite, not quite touching... 

"...'and which I will again,'"

_kiss_

"'and again,'" 

_kiss_

"'and again,'"

_kiss_

"'kiss, I like kissing this,'" 

One breast.

"'and that,'"

The other.

"'of you, I like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric furr, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh...'" 

Clarke's breath caught as she suited deed to word, soft, soft... 

"'And eyes big love-crumbs,'" and they were, "'and possibly I like the thrill of under me you so quite new.'"

The poem ended as her fingers slid into Clarke, her thumb against her clit, and she kissed her, and it was easy, so easy, to make her come once, then again, it hardly seemed fair that she could do so little and draw out so much, and she let Clarke cling, her thighs still clamped around her hand, and she nuzzled her temple and made soft, soothing noises until it all ebbed away, and Clarke opened her eyes.

"How are you even real?" she asked.

"I love you," Lexa answered. 

Which seemed to satisfy her, because she kissed her again, then nudged her to roll over, curving around her back and kissing the back of her shoulder and the nape of her neck, as she did all the nights that they were together. "Good night, Lexa," she whispered.

"Good night, Clarke."

_I could get used to this,_ she thought, lacing her fingers through Clarke's. _I could really get used to this._

**Author's Note:**

> The poem is 'i like my body' by e.e. cummings, if anyone was curious.


End file.
